Hero
by NerdGirl95
Summary: "The noir hero is a knight in blood-caked armour. He's dirty and he does his best to deny the fact that he's a hero the whole time." Frank Miller. If you were suddenly named a hero, how would you react? A series of freeverse poems about our favourite characters and how they see their status of hero throughout the books and after the Battle.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N. What do you get when you take a sleep deprived year 12 student, put her in a biology exam that she finishes early and give her a scrap piece of paper? Why, this of course! I was thinking, after the war, many people would be regarded as heroes. But how would they see themselves, and what would the think of their hero status? This will be a series of freeverse poems on different characters both during the books and after the Battle. Who it is won't be explicit, but thy should become clear throughout. Anyway, enjoy!**

Breathe

In, out, in, out.

Walk.

Right, left, right, left.

Deep breathe in,

One foot in front of the other.

Why is something so simple,

Suddenly so difficult.

Smile

You have to, you're a hero now.

Click goes the camera.

Flash goes the light.

"Smile so wide it hurts"

But it does anyway.

Why smile when the world is broken

Talk.

Mouth moving, sounds created.

People want answers, comfort, praise.

"We did our best, I'm sorry, well done."

But **they** understand, your voice won't work now.

Sounds hurt

It won't take away the pain, so why try

Cry.

They say it helps

Clears your head.

Will he think you're weak

Because he never cried.

Hot tears spilling over

Why does water suddenly hurt so much

Hero.

People say you are one now

Lead a group, steal a sword, fight a battle.

You don't agree, you aren't a hero.

He is though, why won't they see

Your beloved brother who died laughing.

**A/N. So, what do you think? This is my first serious attempt at poetry, so let me know what you think. Did any of you guess who it was before the last stanza? And if you guys have a specific character you want me to do, review or PM me ad let me know. Thanks for reading. NG.**


	2. Chapter 2

Eyes

Bight and clear, they tell a story.

A story of pain, loss and war.

A story of happiness, friendship and love.

Eyes that see the world,

The peace that has come.

Eyes that rest daily on the ones you love.

Throat

Dry and hoarse,

Full of tiny cuts from inhaled debris.

Breathing, in and out,

Each breath another second you ever expected to live.

A throat to make noises.

Noises of sorrow and anguish, of joy and relief.

Lips

Dry and cracked, yet surprisingly soft.

An extension of the throat, projecting to noises.

Screams and sobs, laughter and songs.

Lips to kiss your beloved

Parted for so long,

Now together forevermore.

Hands

Burnt and calloused, ripped and torn.

Hands to rebuild the world that is broken.

Heal those who are hurting,

And bury those who will never hurt again.

Hands to reach out to those you care for.

Gestures of friendship, family and love.

Feet

Weary from overuse

Calloused, blistered and bleeding.

Feet to carry you across the empty battle field,

Walk to path you thought was your last.

Feet to carry you home,

To a life you never thought you'd live.

Scars

Littering every inch of skin, some big and others small.

They're what make you famous,

A hero they call you.

You disagree, you did what you had to.

You're parents, though unscarred, are the true heroes,

Because they gave their lives so you might have one.


	3. Chapter 3

Alone.

Lost in the crowd.

Always the last one, the ickle baby.

Tattered robs, second-hand pets,

Maybe here you can be first at something.

Sidekick.

Tactless, unskilled.

But he has nothing either,

And if it doesn't bother him,

Why should it matter to you?

Champion.

Knight in shining armour.

As long as your friends survive

(Which thank goodness they did)

Does it matter who did the saving?

Goofy.

You'll never be good enough.

You settle, trying not to notice the hurt in her eyes.

When it counts though, you are there,

Because really, there is nothing else you can do.

Insecure.

He's better than you, surely.

You run, tell yourself it's better this way.

But they need you, you can feel it.

So you summon courage and do the only thing you can – return.

Love.

Love and friendship

The only thing that keeps you going.

Any of you could die tonight,

But you will protect them if it's the last thing you do.

Hero.

That's what they call you.

Once you wanted the attention, but not anymore.

Now you just want to hide away,

Somewhere you can just live.

Hero.

That's what she calls you.

They both insist you saved them, many times.

Maybe being a hero isn't all it seems,

But you do it for them, because you love each other,

And in this broken world, that's what really counts.


	4. Chapter 4

Screams.

Screams of pain and terror.

Screams of anguish and helplessness.

Hers and his, mingling together, until she can't tell them apart.

They save her, those screams.

Remind her that there is something worth fighting for.

Lights.

Red, green, purple, white, blue, yellow.

Flashes of every colour of the rainbow, some harmful, others deadly.

Duck and weave, weave and duck.

A flash here, and flash there, but she has no time to stop.

People are running, falling, dying,

But she has a job to do, so on she must go.

Screams.

Back where they started.

Screams of triumph and victory, or anguish and loss.

Three screams rent the air,

One is hers, but she can't tell which.

Because it really doesn't matter, not anymore,

Because he's dead, he's dead, he's dead.

Movement.

A flash, a swish, an object in the air.

Then a great surge, backwards and forwards.

And everyone is moving,

Ducking and weaving, running and jumping.

Flashes are everywhere, good vs bad.

And with one final movement, it is over.

Breathe.

It is finished, they are free.

The three find a place to sit, to hide.

They talk cry, laugh.

Then they breathe, because they can,

Because they are free.

Because they are alive.

Sleep.

She hasn't slept in days.

They drag themselves upstairs, but they falter.

Nightmares, she knows she'll have them, and they will too.

She can't bear to let them go, not now not ever.

So they fall on a bed together, and messy tangle of limbs.

And there, with none of them knowing what part belongs to who, they sleep at last.

Hero.

She guesses she is one, maybe.

The bossy, insecure Muggleborn turned fearless leader,

Saviour of the Wizarding World,

Role model for all little girls and muggleborns.

But to her, Collin is the hero.

The shy Muggleborn unafraid to go against the rules to do what he knew was right.

**A/N. So, are you figuring them out? I'd love to hear what you guys think, this is my first attempt at something like this, and I would really appreciate your opinions. And if you have someone you want me to do, just let me know. NG.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chubby

B

U

M

B

L

I

N

G

Lost in the crowd

Motherless

Fatherless

The one that could have been,

But never was.

Follower

Scared

Lost in the crowd

Darkness

Fear

He's gone, it's your turn now

Can you do it?

Leader

Scared

Ahead of the crowd

Light

Noise

You have the task,

You know what you must do

Champion

No longer scared

Part of the crowd

Hero

Put on a pedestal

You aren't the hero, they are.

The friends you all lost, that made your victory possible.

**A/N. Gosh, sorry I've been MIA for a while! Anyway, this was requested by Electric Phantom (guess who it is!). I have to say thankyou to Electric Phantom for providing me with a list of people they want to see done, it's the inspiration that's kept me going! Once again, let me know what you think, and if you have any requests for people or help clarifying who the poems are about. NG.**


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